The Witch's Tower by Tamara Grantham (uplifting novels .txt) đź“–
- Author: Tamara Grantham
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No.
Raj returned with the horses.
“I’ve gathered a few apples,” I said, sitting on the grass.
“Good. I’ve got fresh water.” He held out a canteen and I took it from him. Although I tried to avoid it, my fingers brushed his, making butterflies flit through my stomach, and I ground my teeth.
He sat across from me, his eyes on the road as he began eating an apple. We didn’t speak, and I was fine with that.
As we finished our meal, dark clouds blocked out the sunlight, and we quickly mounted our horses. The dwarf stayed under the tree, still mumbling one name after another.
“How long has he been transformed?” Raj asked.
“Not long. He’s been mumbling names this whole time. I pity the creature.” I hoped the goddess forgave me for omitting the truth, but there was no way I could tell Raj of the poison the dwarf had been spouting. I would be humiliated for the rest of eternity.
“I see.” He narrowed his eyes at the dwarf. “I’m still not convinced he’s friendly.”
“I’m starting to agree.”
“You are?”
“Yes. But unless we can think of what do with him, I’m afraid we’re stuck.”
Raj mounted his horse. I stayed back with the dwarf. Still mumbling, he sat under the tree, too caught up in his own thoughts to pay us any notice.
Could I leave him here? He’d more than deserved it. He’d been rude and demanding. Then again, I wouldn’t feel right leaving him here alone. Grudgingly, I spoke up.
“Dwarf,” I called. “We’re leaving.”
He looked up, eyes wide, as if coming out of a trance. “Aye, I can see that,” he snapped. He got to his feet. With a flash of light, a wolf stood in his place. I mounted my horse, then kicked her to a trot to catch up with Raj. The wolf followed on quiet feet, keeping pace beside my horse, his tongue lolling.
The afternoon turned chill as thick clouds blanketed the sky. The road grew steeper as we approached the mountains. Sable had trouble keeping up with Raj’s Arabian mare, who seemed more suited to steep inclines.
Walls of granite covered in vines lined the roadside as our horses climbed. My fingers were growing numb as I held to the reins. Sounds of the horses’ hoof steps, coupled with their exhalations, broke up the silence.
My thighs ached as I clung to the saddle. My thin riding breeches were the only thing to keep me from chafing. I’d never ridden so much in my entire life, and I couldn’t say that I was anxious to do it ever again.
As afternoon turned to evening, we finally crested the mountain range. I stopped my horse next to Raj’s, who stood looking out over the valley.
The old castle sat at the valley’s center, tall spires reaching toward the sky, reminding me of my sewing needles, sharp spikes that seemed to poke through the hovering, misty clouds gathered around their tops. Vines encased the castle, making it seem as if the structure were part of the ground. The remains of the town surrounded the fortress, though only ruined structures remained. I was shocked at how five years of neglect made the place look so old. Nature had a way of reclaiming its own.
Memories flooded back as I looked at the castle. I remembered looking back as the high sorcerer took me away to the tower. He’d tied my hands together, and I still remembered the sting of the ropes as they left blisters on my skin, although I’d been too afraid to run even if I could have. I thought I would never return, yet here I was, prepared to enter again.
Without speaking, we took the road descending into the valley. Cobblestones appeared in patches beneath the grass. At one point, this had been a major thoroughfare leading to the castle, but now, it was nothing more than a footpath, barely visible beneath the weeds.
The wind picked up, slow at first, but gaining strength until it blustered so hard I had to tug on my cowl to keep it from flying off. Strands of blue hair beat against my face. The air smelled of rain, and cold droplets splashed my skin as we weaved between the dilapidated buildings and approached the castle gates. I searched for our old cottage but couldn’t find it. Maybe it was better that I didn’t see it. Too many memories I needed to forget.
We neared the end of the lane where the castle loomed over us. Behind it, the backdrop of the gray sky reflected off the parapets, making them blend in with the approaching darkness. Vines with thick bark and thorns the length of my ring fingers encased the castle. Stones crumbled beneath the vines. The drawbridge was barely visible through the mass of woody growth, and the incessant wind shrieked through the open portcullis.
The wolf trailed behind us as Raj dismounted his horse, and I did the same.
“What should we do with the horses?” Raj called over the wind.
“We can leave them in the old stables,” I answered. “Follow me.”
Grasping Sable’s reins, I walked around the castle. The stables sat away from the towering walls. Parts of the thatched roof had collapsed, but the wooden posts remained standing, and inside, the stalls were dry. The air held the scent of moldy hay. Rats scattered, their tiny feet pattering, as I tied Sable’s reins to a post. Outside, the wind shrieked, but in here, the air remained calm. The wolf sat just inside the entryway, keeping to himself.
“Will the horses be safe here?” Raj asked.
“They should be safe enough.”
“Very well. Do you know where to find the radish?”
“Yes, we’ll have to follow the vines. When my mother cursed the king, she planted it in the castle’s dungeons, then caused it to grow the vines that you see everywhere. If we find the source of the vines, we’ll find the radish.”
“Good. I’d like to get this over with as soon as we can. That castle gives me a bad feeling.”
“You’re not the only one.”
I shuddered as I thought of entering the castle. What would we find? Would there be bodies?
I’d heard rumors of what had happened after I’d left—of the townsfolk rioting and trying to take the palace, of them being slaughtered by his squadrons inside, of the thieves that lived there now. I’d never known whether to believe the rumors.
We left the stables and rounded the outer bailey. Facing the looming drawbridge, I took a deep breath before entering. I’d already made up my mind to do this. Now, I’d have to live with that decision, even if it cost more than I was able to pay.
Our footsteps echoed as we walked into the massive entryway. Raj grabbed a torch from one of the sconces, then lit it with his flint rock. Flames crackled and sputtered as they flared to life. The acrid scent of smoke filled the air as we continued through the cavernous, arching chamber.
Vines twisted around the walls, seeming to consume them. Smashed vases covered in dust lay on the ground. Some of the cracked remains still held onto their colors. I spotted painted pink cherry blossoms on one of them. The sight brought back memories of running down this hallway with the vases lining either side, wishing I could’ve touched one, afraid of getting whipped if I did.
I knelt beside a crushed piece and placed my fingers atop it, laughing to myself. Well, at least I’d finally gotten to touch one, though now the once treasured piece was nothing more than discarded rubble, left to turn to dust along with the rest of the castle.
After standing, I continued with Raj and the wolf at my side. Our bootsteps crunched over the debris on the floor. Firelight flickered over the walls. Some of the portraits were still visible beneath the vines. Empty gazes stared from the canvas. Most depicted the royal family, people who lived so long ago, I couldn’t recall their names.
We made it through the main foyer and into a hallway that led to the stairs. The air became staler as we took the stairs to the dungeons. The scent of rot lingered when we stepped off the staircase and onto the bottom floor.
The dungeons spread out before us, though the vines had grown so thick, it appeared as if they’d replaced the walls completely. It seemed as if nothing remained of the bricks and mortar, and we walked through a strange forest of thorns. We stepped over the growth crisscrossing the floor as we paced through the dungeons.
Unlike the area above, in some places, the snaking plants here grew with green shoots that fluttered as we walked past. My mother had created the vines to be impervious to flames, and to never need water, air, or sunlight—they were basically impossible to destroy. High Sorcerer Varlocke had found out the hard way.
The wolf followed us on silent paws. The glow of the torch’s flame highlighted the rusting gates barring the cells. A rotting corpse lay on the ground in one of the cells, the tunic and cape chewed by rats, the face little more than a skull. My insides squirmed at the sight of the human remains. He must’ve been abandoned in this place when the vines had forced the high sorcerer from the castle. I couldn’t imagine enduring such
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